


Solace

by Dusty



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Quantum of Solace (2008)
Genre: F/M, Hot bath, Masturbation, Stand Alone, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:19:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene: M is riled after her conversation with Bond in which she tells him to come in, and he refuses. She orders Tanner to restrict Bond's movements. Then she tries to take a relaxing bath... but Bond has gotten under her skin and now she's all tense. What's she going to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

She had promoted him too early. It was clear now. Killing a member of Special Branch; refusing to come in. Now she was going to have to ground him. And then what? An investigation. That could be it for him. And people would question her judgement. Bloody man. What was he thinking?

She scowled at the newly run bath and huffed in frustration. It didn’t bear thinking about – not tonight anyway. It was already late and she just wanted to relax. She could feel the hairs on her arms standing up on end. Why was he so bloody difficult?

She tested the water with one hand and resolved to stop thinking on James Bond. But as she slipped out of her robe and into the hot water, she felt flustered. _Tension in your voice_ , he'd said. Something about James – something about his conduct, however unconventional or outrageous, felt right. She had no _reason_ to trust him. Whenever she reigned him in, she felt like she was clipping the wings of a rare and endangered bird. When she let him go, he got into terrible trouble. But she had seen this before. Yes, he would cause chaos and destruction, leaving her with a lot of explaining to do, but more often than not, he did get the job done. With flying colours.

But he disobeyed a direct order to come in - in front of Tanner, no less. She couldn’t overlook that. _The little fucker_ , she thought almost fondly, sinking into the oily, scented bubbles. She’d damn well teach him a lesson this time.

The water soothed her, the steam tickling her face. It was a battle to keep her thoughts away. She kept seeing James’ sulky face from each and every time she’d had to discipline him. And then his smirk of triumph every time he got it right despite getting into trouble. His unnerving ability to land on his feet. His damned cheek. His daring to be so insubordinate yet so charming.

She was warm. The heat of the bath was spreading deep inside her bones. She had a million calls to make, a thousand documents to sign and a lot of apologising to do. But not tonight. She sighed deeply, wriggling in the bath as she became aware of the tension in her body and endeavoured to relax.

Minutes ticked by. Bliss. Pure bliss. Finally her mind was calm. She twitched her fingers and realised they had come to rest on her sex. She raised an eyebrow. Yes, that could work. Oh yes, that could work very nicely. She ran her fingers over her silky flesh, the hot, oily water providing a scintillating and immediate lubricant. She rolled her hips and she lazily massaged herself, her head flopping backwards.

Shocks and sparks spread through her body at the slightest touch; a clear sign she needed this, the indulgence of the bathwater enhancing every sensation. One finger slipped in and she arched gently, the water shifting around her. She wriggled it inside of her and gasped breathlessly, her muscles repeatedly clenching at the attention. The knuckle of her thumb slid over her clitoris quite by instinct and she moaned.

She bit her lip. It wouldn’t do to be caught like this. She either needed to be quick or subtle. She wasn’t sure she could be both. She drove her finger in as far as it would go and stroked the spongy inner wall. The water plopped and sloshed gently as she rutted. A second finger slid in, assisting the first, her thumb still playing with her sensitive clit.

Everything seemed to rush into her abdomen, a forbidden tightness, a delightful tickle, and dizzying pleasure. She stayed like that, treating herself in a steamy cloud of euphoria, refusing to rush; her actions hidden by lathery suds. So secretive. Her mind felt foggy. She moaned again but was past caring. Her other hand came to help, cupping her soapy breast and flicking her erect nipple. Another moan. She fucked herself with her fingers eagerly; jagged breaths and the slap of the water creating telltale signs of her mischief.

Suddenly both hands were in her groin, rubbing, teasing and penetrating her slick sex as she bucked in the water. Something was taking over. Electric sensations swelled inside inside her, almost uncomfortable. She felt deliciously bad, so gloriously lost. She tried to ignore the mixed signals that she would wee in the bath if she let go, soon not caring if she did anyway, and felt herself filling up with light. Her thumb grazed her clit.

That’s when she saw him in her mind’s eye, in one blazing split-second vision. James Bond: Her recalcitrant agent. So deliciously bad, so gloriously lost. His penetrating blue eyes, his defiant pout, his dangerous smoulder. And he was all hers to take in hand.

Her lower body burst into stars as she came with a strangled cry, racked with contractions. One hand went to her mouth to stifle her groans. The water lapped at the bath’s edges excitedly, then slowed, a dazed witness. She panted into the bubbles.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Fuck fuck fuck.” James Bond had made her come. She pulled her fingers out, not sure where her juices ended and the bath began, breathing heavily. Her body felt like it might sink. She glanced at the clock. She’d been at it for 20 minutes.

“At least I’m relaxed now,” she mumbled to herself drowsily. She sat up, water pouring off her skin. At the sound of slippers on the landing, she froze. Her dressing gown clad husband appeared in the doorway with two cups of cocoa, peering at her admonishingly.

“Naughty,” he said, before dissolving into a kind smile and a wink. “Come old, old girl. It’s past your bedtime.”

He shuffled into the bedroom. M sheepishly climbed out of the bath and reached for her towel. It looked like she would be doing a lot of grovelling this week.


End file.
